Page 23 of An Immaculate Deception

I lower my voice. “He had a lover, didn’t he? Until recently?”

Her eyes widen. She knows.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Is the senzala empty?”

“The senzala?”

“Yes, the senzala.”

“Why yes, it’s empty. I never go in there, but it must be empty. Who would be in there?”

“Her.”

“Deus do Céu, Sinhá Madalena.” She starts to turn away, balancing a platter of breakfast cakes and fruits. She shakes her head. “You’ll give me a fright if you keep this up.”

“What about Leandro?” I ask. “How long has he been like that?”

“Like that, how?”

“So taciturn and reserved.”

She furrows her brows. I have made her uncomfortable, pushed too far. But there are so few people in this house to even ask. I think Maria das Dores knows about the foul woman. The way her face changed when I asked if a woman has died here. She knows about her.

“I…I don’t know.”

“What do you think of Leandro? Speaking honestly.”

“Senhor Neves is a very good patrão. I am sorry that you did not sleep well. I will prepare a glass of warm milk for you to drink before bed tonight, that will soothe your nerves and give you good dreams. Now, if you will excuse me.”

The very good patrão manifests in the dining room just as I am finishing my coffee. He’s not back to his normal self yet. He still carries that gaunt look, his under-eyes hollow and shadowy. He looks startled to see me.

“Good morning,” he says. “How do you feel?”

“Quite fine. How do you feel?”

“Quite fine.”

“Did you sleep well?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“In your bedroom?”

There is a pause. “Yes.”

“Nothing disrupted your sleep?”

“Did something disrupt your sleep?” he counters, alarmed.

It’s like talking to a mule. I try another route. “Who were the previous owners of the Santa Tereza?”

He stares at me blankly. I know that I’m being overly forward, as I was with Maria das Dores, but I need answers. And are my words really so complicated to understand?

“I don’t know.”

It’s my turn to stare at him. “You don’t know?”